Guilt
by Emma of the TARDIS
Summary: The last few days of Micheal's life. Spoilers for end of book and suicide. First person POV.


Guilt. It is no doubt the strongest emotion anyone can feel. I know there are tons of people who like to argue with me. They would say that envy, greed, or love are stronger than guilt. I disagree. All of these have to do with feelings towards other people. What could be stronger than the feelings towards oneself?

I can tell you countless stories of those other emotions, each emotion paling in comparison to that of my guilt. One day, many years ago it seems, I fell in love. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, but my Brigitte Schäfer, oh, she was lovely. She was sweeter than the candy from Frau Diller's. I had Mr. Schäfer's approval. The ring was in my pocket. We were going to go to the place we shared our first kiss. Back in those days, I was a hopeless romantic. She sent her younger brother to tell me that she had to cancel that day, as she wasn't feeling great. Too soon, she was in heaven. Scarlet fever took my heart away. My grief was terrible, but I did have the proper feelings. I had no will to live. If Robert didn't need me…

Greed. Countless stories of these and envy. Everyone has those. I don't think I need to expand.

Nothing I have ever done or ever felt is like my guilt. It is causing me to hate myself. I do not feel guilty for living. I am guilty of wanting to live. That is my problem. My brother died. I saw him draw his last breath. I should be sad and depressed and want to join Robert in whatever comes after this life. Why do I want to live? It is not right.

Perhaps, just maybe, I should be punished for my guilt.

Each night is a living hell. Dreams where once the only place I could go to escape. After Brigitte died, I was always sleeping. I was addicted to my dreams. There, I was with her. No matter how short of time, I was briefly happy. I slept at every chance I could get. But this time, with this death, I dread the night. I wake up, full sweat. Every night, I try to think about anything else. But the vision, oh God, they haunt me. Seeing Robert's legs gone, his half-human body, the look in his eyes as he searched for his humanity in mine… I cannot bare the night. Try as I might, sleep, my dear old friend, as betrayed me. It makes me relive those terrible days, something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Not even a Jew. Staying up all night is just as bad. Pictures, still shots, float in my mind. I can't hide from them. Only in the face of the day do I feel anything.

Over the next few weeks, my punishment sits in my mind like a boulder, a constant thought. It's all I can think about. I've heard of people who punish themselves, heck, even the monks did that in the times of yore. But just hurting myself doesn't seem to be enough.

As I continue to complicate what my next course of action is, I hear the sound I dread. It's the sirens. Try as I can, Mama is stubborn and refuses to leave. No words are needed, but I can tell the same thought of punishment is in her mind. She should live. I know she's no saint, but I doubt she knows the pain a bomb death causes.

The only person as stubborn as Mama is Rosa. I liked her, despite Mama's dislike. She was always kind and she must help me. Maybe she can anger Mama into coming. I run to the door of the Hubermann house and knock furiously.

"My mother… she won't come out. She's sitting at the kitchen table."

I listen as Rosa yells at Mama. I would certainly go, just to shut her up. At the next breath of the siren, she yells as me, "What now?"

I shrug, unsure. The little foster girl, Liesel, shouts at me, "Can I go in?" Before I can answer -I would have answered in the positive—she runs inside. I hold my breath, hoping this little girl can save my Mama.

The Hubermanns walk towards the safe basement. I stand there. What can I do? Mama needs me. And if I die, so be it. Then, Rosa shouts, "Come on!" What can I do but follow? The second I turn around, I regret my choice. But I must live with that.

When we get there, I go to the corner. Everything is closing around me. My heart beats too fast, my chest rising and falling rapidly, and I feel queasy. I might even be shaking. I am an coward. To no one, I say, "I should have stayed." I repeat this mantra until Rosa tells me, "Please, Michael, it's not your fault."

I slink closer to the floor. "Tell me something, because I don't understand…" I slink all the way to the floor. "Tell me, Rosa, how can she sit there ready to die while I want to live. Why do I want to live? I shouldn't want to, but I do." I break down in tears, torn emotionally. I am glad to have finally voiced my thoughts, but I feel weak. I have always taken pride in not being weak. This moment here goes against my very character.

After what seems to be an eternity, Mama finally comes in. Her eyes are glazed, not listening to my apology.

Days later, I know what my punishment should be. My guilt of leaving Mama is great, but nothing compared to my guilt over wanting to live. I am mentally messed up. I should want death. So, to death I will go.

My hand shakily writes the words. My last words. A smile breaks through as I sound so overly dramatic.

_Dear Mama,_

_Can you ever forgive me?  
I couldn't stand it any longer._

_I'm meeting Robert. I don' care_

_what the damn Catholics have to say about it._

_There must be a place in heaven for_

_those who have been where I have been._

_You might think I don't love you_

_because of what I've done, but I do._

_Your Michael_

I glance out my window. The sun is beginning to break. How did sixty-one little words take this long? I know it is time.

I walk to the laundry by Frau Diller's. I knew the owner never locked up when he went out drinking and I have seen him headed towards the bar earlier. With a length of rope in my hand, I enter. My old friend, who I would be able to see soon, had taught me how to make a noose, in case I was caught by the enemy. His lesson will serve me well.

I blink a few times. A gentle giant is holding me. He asks me, "Was it really that bad?" I nod, surrendering myself to this giant. I don't know where he'll lead me, but for once, I am not worried about that. I feel nothing, which is a blessing in itself. I see others who have the same look on their face. I know what I did isn't right for anyone else. But for me, I finally feel free.

AN: basically assume anything in quotes is taken from the actual book.


End file.
